feeling of mystery surrounding the man. He walked over to the other end of the room and before the girls’ amazed eyes took out what they had thought to be part of the table.

   It was a very cleverly hidden receptacle, and as the girls looked down into it they saw that it was half filled with curious little fern baskets.

   “I make them,” the man explained, as they looked up at him, puzzled. “And then I sell them in the town—sometimes.”

   His mouth tightened bitterly, and he hastily returned

   the baskets to their hiding place. Then he turned and faced them abruptly.

   “Where do you come from?” he asked almost sharply.

   “We come from Three Towers Hall,” answered Billie.

   “Three Towers!” The man looked very much interested. “Are you—er—teachers there or pupils?”

   “Teachers! Hardly,” and Billie had to smile. “We are not old enough for that. We are pupils.”

   “Do you like the place?'”

   “Very much.”

   Again there was a pause, and it must be admitted that, for a reason they could not explain, the girls felt far from comfortable. Oh, if only they were back at the boarding school again!

   “I don’t know a great deal about the school,” said the man slowly. “I suppose there are lots of girls there.”

   “Over a hundred,” said Laura, thinking she should say something.

   “And quite a few teachers, too?”

   “Oh, yes.”

   Then the man asked quite a lot of other questions and the girls answered him as best they could. The man continued to look at them so queerly that Billie was convinced that there was something wrong with him. But what was it? Oh, if only the storm

   would let up, so they could start back to the school!

   But even when the rain stopped, how could they get back? They were lost, and at night the way would be even harder to find than in the daytime.

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